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Sea shanties and maritime music

For without his chanty the seaman could not have worked the under-manned and underfed, and often sty-fed, vessels in which he went up and down the world; he could not have set sail to favoring breeze or furled it from destroying gale. There is nothing like a song to lift any kind of work along; and a chanty was then – and still is, on the few square-rigged wanderers left on the seas – as good as ten men on a rope's end, capstan-bar, or windlass-brake.

William Brown Meloney IV, The Chanty Man Sings, 1926

This Day in History (February 29, 1908)

This Day in History (January 8, 1806)

The death of Lord Nelson was a national tragedy like no other for England. "From Greenwich to Whitehall Stairs, on the 8th of January, 1806, in one of the greatest Aquatic Processions that ever was beheld on the River Thames" drifted the royal shallop (barge). The event is referenced in the modern lament, Carrying Nelson Home. Nelson is mentioned in nearly a dozen other songs.

Try a random shanty sampling

The Big Five-Gallon Jar
Forecastle song

In Liverpool there liv'd a man, Jack Jennings was his name
And in the days of square-rigged sail, he played the shanghai game.
His wife's name was Caroline, sailors knew from near and far;
And when she played the shanghai game she used his big stone jar.

In the old Virginia lowlands, lowlands low,
In the old Virginia lowlands low!

There were drunkards in the corner and bummers at the bar,
And Caroline was supplying them with a big five-gallon jar.

Lines missing

Said old Jack to old Caroline, "I'll tell you what we'll do.
There's a ship lying down to McKinnon's Wharf; I think she wants a crew.
We'll go down around the corners to get some drunken tars.
We'll shanghai them away out of Liverpool Bay with a big five-gallon jar!"

So Jack and Cal, they worked their game when the ships signed on their tars.
Skys'l Jack and Pete and Bowline Bill helped to judge old Cal's five-gallon jar.
Now we'll bid adieu to Cal and Jack and set our sails for ports afar.
Dear Shanghai Cal, we'll call come back, and sample Jack's five gallon jar.
Haul Away, Joe
Hauling shanty

Away, haul away, oh haul and sing together,
Ch: Way haul away, we'll haul away Joe
Oh, once I had an Irish girl, but she was fat and lazy
Ch: Way haul away, we'll haul away Joe

And then I had a yeller girl, she nigh druv me crazy,
But now I've got a Yankee girl, and she is just a daisy

Once I was in Ireland, digging turf and 'taties
But now I'm on a lime-juice ship, hauling on the braces.

King Louis was the king of France afore the rev-o-lu-shi-on
But Louis got his head cut off, which spoiled his con-sti-tu-shi-on.

Once I married an Irish girl, and her name was Flannigan
She stole my money, she stole my clothes, she stole my plate and pannikin

St. Patrick was a gentleman, he come of decent people,
He built a church in Dublin town and on it put a steeple
Ej Bör Vi Sörja, Ej Bör Vi Klaga
Hauling shanty

Oh, we must not grive, we must not grouse,
The steward, our friend is always near us,
For he has promised in hand to take us,
What so wind may blow, however we may cuss

For he has promised in hand to take us,
What so wind may blow, however we may cuss

Oh, we must not grieve, we must not grouse,
The wind-pump we have is at the tread-mill light,
Murmur'd grumbles you will rue, for the steward will catch you,
And now to reef the sail, for she's pumped dry.

Murmur'd grumbles you will rue, for the steward will catch you,
And now to reef the sail, for she's pumped dry.

Oh, we must not grieve, we must not grouse,
The steward has weighed out our bread, pork, and herring,
If this skipper's pleased, he'll let the rope-end fall,
We'll get extra victualing, every single night.

If this skipper's pleased, he'll let the rope-end fall,
We'll get extra victualing, every single night.
Tom Bowline
Forecastle song

Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowline,
The darling of our crew;
No more he'll hear the tempest howling,
For death has broach'd him to.
His form was of the manliest beauty,
His heart was kind and soft;
Faithful below he did his duty,
And now he's gone aloft.

Tom never from his word departed,
His virtues were so rare,
His friends were many, and true-hearted,
His Poll was kind and fair:
And then he'd sing so blithe and jolly,
Ah, many's the time and oft!
But mirth is turned to melancholy,
For Tom is gone aloft.

Yet shall poor Tom find pleasant weather,
When He, who all commands,
She give, to call life's crew together,
The word to pipe all hands.
Thus Death, who kings and tars dispatches,
In vain Tom's life has doff'd,
For, though his body's under hatches,
His soul has gone aloft.
Mainsail Café, 2026 Contact